


I'm Niall Horan, and I'm One Direction

by hoywfiction



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Band Break Up, This is something I wrote the day after Zayn left, and I just found it again, but I don't like it, why I wrote it I would love to know, you can tell that I was feeling upset when I wrote it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoywfiction/pseuds/hoywfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" Years passed. Two, three. That was how long it was after Zayn left that the other lads did too. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Niall Horan, and I'm One Direction

Years passed. Two, three. That was how long it was after Zayn left that the other lads did too. For good.

Harry opened his own bakery, unsurprisingly, and sang as a side hobby. Louis played football for charity sometimes, and he got into acting pretty quickly. Liam kept doing his remixes as well as songwriting, but mostly he kept quiet and wasn't seen in the news much. Last Niall heard, he was hoping to start producing. Zayn didn't change much; he kept singing, ruling the world with his vocals.

Niall went home. To his mum and dad and brother and nephew, to his old friends... only to find they weren't really friends anymore. Niall went home and realised the one thing he dreaded: Singing was all he ever had.

That's why he's here, in a little shop, on a poorly lit stage and with an audience of maybe fifteen. An audience of fifteen who are paying more attention to the ceiling tiles than they are to him. One girl recognises him he thinks, she keeps shooting looks over his way.

He looks to his left. There's faded curtains bunched up by the wing and a mic tilted towards him on a stand. Harry isn't doing strange dance moves even though no music's playing, Zayn's not smiling fondly at him like he always does. Did. He looks to his right. There's a small stand for his acoustic guitar, which is resting on his lap, but that's all. Louis isn't standing there pouring water down Liam's hoodie while he's distracted by the fans.

He looks forwards again, to the shop. There's no crowd, no signs, no screaming or singing along. There's no one... and he's never felt so small before. If he starts to get choked up, nobody sees it. He might as well be invisible.

"Hello," he says softly. No one turns their head. He bites his lip, hand tapping on the neck of his instrument. All he can hear is the clanking of cups and spoons, and he feels his throat get tight. "I'm Niall Horan, and..."

He can't help it; he brings a sleeve clad wrist to his eyes and wipes away tears as quickly as he can. He takes in a shaky breath, lets it out slowly. It doesn't help, especially not when he keeps hoping to feel a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for one of the lads when they would never be here.

 

"I'm Niall Horan... And I'm... I'm One Direction..."


End file.
